


smitten's a bad look on me

by flowernst (asphodelgrimoire)



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied/Reference Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Vaguely Sympathetic Asshole Melchior Gabor, hanschen rilow is the king of self-respect, this is actually fluffy i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/pseuds/flowernst
Summary: “Moritz,” he said slowly, taking in the boy’s rumpled and anxious appearance. That wasn’t so surprising, but his expression was an intriguing one, heartbroken. “What are you doing here?”He clasped his hands together in front of him, opening his mouth and then closing it again. “I can’t go home,” he whispered. Hanschen had to admire his cryptic nature, but it didn’t bode well in this situation.





	smitten's a bad look on me

**Author's Note:**

> listen i know i haven't written spring awakening fic in 3 years and this is a strange ship to come back with but i am dead serious about it now.
> 
> also no cast in particular was pictured during this aside from possibly andy mientus' draco malfoy-lookin ass so feel free to headcanon as u wish
> 
> warning: mentions of self-harm, self-esteem issues, and a suicide attempt  
> title is from 'bad ideas' by tessa violet which is a CUTE ass song go listen

Hanschen had no idea what to expect when he opened the door at 2 AM after a moment of frantic knocking. His parents were asleep, but he was woefully awake on a summer night, opening his window to catch a breeze and hearing rustling in his yard below. He went downstairs and undid the latch, only to stand in front of the last person he could have expected at his home in the dead of night.

“Moritz,” he said slowly, taking in the boy’s rumpled and anxious appearance. That wasn’t so surprising, but his expression was an intriguing one, heartbroken. “What are you doing here?”

He clasped his hands together in front of him, opening his mouth and then closing it again. “I can’t go home,” he whispered. Hanschen had to admire his cryptic nature, but it didn’t bode well in this situation.

“Why not? Is someone hurting you?”

Moritz had to think about that, which was deeply concerning, but he shook his head. “No, I just can’t be alone. Melchi- Melchior’s looking for me.”

Hanschen almost smiled. “And you know he won’t find you here?” Moritz nodded fervently. “Come in.” He gave a hasty thanks and shuffled into the house around Hanschen, in his usual outfit of a flannel and jeans. “Were you staying the night with him?”

Moritz turned to him, studying him in suspicion before answering. “Yeah. Why?”

“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

He nodded again. Hanschen sighed and redid the latch, leading him by the hand to his mother’s window seat in the kitchen.

“Then you can stay here tonight.”

Moritz followed his path to a cupboard where he got out a box of chamomile tea. “You don’t have to do that, Hanschen.”

“I want to,” he said fiercely. He hoped that the unspoken _you’re worth my time_ came across in his tone. He had never been close to Moritz, but he had to know that Hanschen wouldn’t put him out on the street, especially at such a late hour in such a delicate situation. “What did Melchior do to upset you?” He put some water on to boil and sat beside his anxious classmate. There were so many things he could imagine Melchior saying that would crush Moritz that he figured it would be better to ask instead of being stuck speculating wildly in his own head.

“He- I couldn’t believe it. I can’t believe that he thinks…” Even in the dark, Hanschen could tell that he was on the verge of tears. He stiffened at the thought and put a hand on Moritz’s shoulder. So it was something serious. How could Melchior constantly have what he wanted so near to him and still fuck it up? Moritz’s friends- Ernst, Ilse, and Martha, mainly- found it hard to continue defending Melchior’s antics in an attempt at helping both of the boys, and Hanschen could see why. They knew that Melchior was gone on him, but it was obvious to him that pushing Moritz back in his admirer’s direction would only hurt him.

This wasn’t a pair with whom they could play matchmaker.

“What happened, Moritz?”

He wiped his eyes and hugged himself. “He said- he said that my dad was right. That I was- that I just pity myself too much, and that people avoid me because of it.” Hanschen pinched the bridge of his nose. Melchior always had to hit people where it hurt, always had to use something personal against them. But his best friend? To say something like that to Moritz, someone he loved? Hanschen had put it past him, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Melchior knew he was depressed, knew he had self-esteem issues, knew he tried to-

Moritz’s phone buzzed on the table, startling both of them. Apparently Melchior had realized his wrongs just then, as he usually did. Moritz looked helplessly to Hanschen, who was glaring at the phone as though he could strangle Melchior through the line. “What should I do?” Moritz asked, sniffing a little. The device kept buzzing for a few moments.

Hanschen considered this for a while. Melchior would be near frightened to death once he came to his senses and registered that Moritz had run out on him, visibly upset, in the middle of the night. He’d be asking around if anyone had seen him, wracked with guilt and wondering about Moritz’s safety. Hanschen was decidedly not a sadist, but he had to admit that leaving Melchior in suspense would be a fitting punishment for his crime, and would probably open his eyes to the severity of his actions.

But he wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, even Melchior.

He rubbed circles over Moritz’s back and shoulder blades. “Why don’t you just reply to let him know you’re safe? You don’t even have to read his messages.”

He was almost embarrassed by the grateful look Moritz gave him at his comforting words. It was too intimate for his liking.

“Could- could you text him for me?”

“Sure,” he replied easily, standing to get his phone and turn the stove off, a few more buzzes ringing out while he poured water over the tea bag he’d placed into his favorite mug. “I’ll just say ‘I’m ok’ or something.”

He opened up Moritz’s phone easily, as it had no security measures (most likely a habit because his father had always checked it) and tapped on the most recent texts from Melchior.

 

**Melchi: where are u?**

**hey i’m sorry**

**i shouldn’t have said that**

**but i’m kinda right**

**i wanted to talk more w/ u about it**

 

**Melchi: moritz?**

**hey**

**pls come back, we can just watch a movie**

**forget what i said**

**ur my best friend**

 

**Melchi: you don’t have to come back**

**or talk**

**please let me know you’re ok**

**i’m sorry**

**i don’t want that to be the last thing i say to you moritz**

**please**

 

Hanschen concluded, after reading through the messages, that it was the right thing to do to text him back. Even if Melchior gave him grief, he couldn’t let him go on thinking that he was going to get a call from the hospital or the police in the morning.

 

**me: I’m safe, don’t worry**

 

**Melchi: oh god**

**where are u?**

**i’ll pick u up**

 

Hanschen pursed his lips and figured a few more choice words couldn’t hurt.

 

**me: No you won’t**

**I’ll see you later**

**Good night**

 

He put the phone face down on the kitchen counter and brought Moritz’s tea to him with the sugar jar.

“Thank you, Hanschen. This means- I can’t even- this means so much to me.” He was quiet but sure in a way that only he and Ernst could ever manage. He then proceeded to dump an ungodly amount of sugar into his mug, hands curled around it for warmth. He was always cold. Hanschen smiled; it was cute, really. He found Moritz cuter than he liked to admit to anyone besides Ernst. He understood. After a moment of stirring and carefully sipping his tea, Moritz peeled his hands away from the mug to look at it. “I love this cup.” It was painted to look like a little calico cat, with triangle ears sticking up out of the top.

Hanschen could barely resist grabbing his hand and kissing it. He was overwhelmingly endearing. “It’s my favorite,” he said, full of fond amusement. “My mom got it for me, and my dad found a calico cat only a week after. I used to swear that it was lucky.” He paused, studying Moritz as he carefully turned the mug in his hands. “Do you wanna meet my cat?”

It was almost like his ears perked up. “Of course.”

“I’ll go get her.”

He made a silent dash upstairs and into his room where his own calico was lazing at the foot of his bed. Hanschen picked her up in his arms and kissed her nose. “Be nice to Moritz. He’s had a hard night, okay?” Then he made his way back down, presenting her to Moritz as though a proud father. “This is Nena.”

Nena, for her part, was mild and sweet as per usual when he set her down, and was glad to return to a warm sleeping spot such as the window seat. Moritz, for his part, was delighted, and didn’t overwhelm her with playing. Hanschen watched him scratch her for a little while with a grin on his face, silently thankful that Nena wasn’t afraid of strangers since his dad’s coworkers always wanted to pet her.

“I love her,” Moritz said, amazed. “My parents never let me keep a cat.”

“When you move out, you can have as many cats as you want. But more than three would be hard to take care of, I think,” he assured.

Moritz made a noise of agreement. “It could just be me and my cat, in a little cottage in a place where they take pictures for postcards.” It was such a Moritz fantasy to have. Hanschen didn’t dare laugh at it, only nodding along with him.

After a bit of silence, Hanschen cleared his throat, figuring that he should fess up sooner rather than later. “I wrote a little more to Melchior than I said I was going to. Nothing bad. I just wanted to… tell you.”

He cocked his head, curious but thankfully not upset by the reminder. “What did you say?”

“Well, he wanted to pick you up wherever you were, and I said no he wasn’t, and that you’d see him whenever. It wasn’t mean,” he swore. “Just a little cross.”

“Why?”

Hanschen gently took his hands. “Because you didn’t deserve that. You don’t have to take that shit from him, Moritz.” He looked like he was going to protest, but Hanschen continued before he could. “I know he always apologizes, but when he upsets you like this, do you think he always knows what he’s apologizing for? Does he know how he’s making you feel?” Moritz shook his head, with less tension in his body. “It’s not because I hate him. I want you two to stay friends,” - _for more reasons than you know-_ “But not if he hurts you so much.”

He nodded, wiping desperately at his eyes. “I just- nobody else wants me around.”

Hanschen froze, fingers absently rubbing at a scar on Moritz’s left wrist. He never said it, would never say it, but he thought about the boy’s suicide attempt often. He was at the hospital, of course; they all were. Ernst brought him along almost every day, and he would go out back for a smoke and then cry his eyes out for someone he hadn’t really known since they were ten. It always came back to loneliness. Hanschen couldn’t stand that Moritz felt so alone, that he felt so unloved and unwanted that he thought no one would miss him. How would he have known? They were all assholes to him sometimes. Nobody ever thought to tell him he was doing a good job. Hanschen sat in his room many a night thinking that he would do the same thing if he felt like that, then he would cry some more.

Moritz thought that only Melchior wanted him, and even then he had no idea just _how much_ he wanted him. He never would either, because Melchior was a temperamental coward. Jesus.

“Moritz… Your friends want you around. I want you around. I know you love him, but there are other people to turn to.” He averted his gaze, feeling Moritz’s intense eyes on him. “I haven’t always made myself available for you, I know. But I am. If you ever feel- if you ever- well, if you don’t want to talk to me, Martha and Ernst love you too. They’ll listen. Ilse is a great listener, you know? She’s really-“

“Hanschen. I’ll come to you before anyone. You’ve helped me a lot.” Moritz blinked at him, squeezing his hand. He was totally unaware of Hanschen’s inner turmoil, how he was contemplating that Moritz was so sensitive and so sweet, too good for Melchior, too good for any of them for that matter, and definitely too good for Hanschen.

“Oh. Right.” They were suddenly too close, but he couldn’t bear to pull away.

Moritz looked down at him, wide-eyed. “What should I do with Melchi?”

Ah, yes. That was the subject at hand. “I think you should set boundaries with him. Maybe say, ‘if you keep being an asshole like this, I’m gonna stop being friends with you.’”

“No!” He looked scandalized.

“Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. A little more like ‘this hurts my feelings and I want you to stop doing it.’ Does that sound better?” Moritz nodded, clearly pleased, and Hanschen couldn’t keep his smile down.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny, just-“ He struggled to find an acceptable answer, then gave up with a shrug. “You’re really cute.”

Moritz looked him in the eye, then down at his own lap. They were still holding hands. “Are you making fun of me?” He was almost inaudible, but the words sent fear shooting through him.

Hanschen balked. “No, no, absolutely not! I swear. Really, you are. Like in an attractive way, but also like gentle cute.”

Thankfully, he was believed, that horrible frown slipping off of Moritz’s face to make way for a soft flush. But there was something still bothering him, Hanschen could tell. “Oh. But you’re-“

“But I’m-?”

He was getting emotional again, whether it was in or out of his control. “Are you sure?” He pushed his sleeve up to show a few more mostly healed scars, clean pink lines across his forearm. He tugged it back down immediately. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said then, tearful. “It’s not that I’m trying to remind you- I just get- They’re so ugly-“

Hanschen tightened his jaw and rolled the boy’s shirt sleeve up, holding his arm loosely. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not. You’re not ugly, and this doesn’t define you forever, okay? It just shows that you’re still here.” Moritz’s face finally cracked, and he wrapped his arms around Hanschen, crying quietly into his shoulder. “Shit, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I wish Ernst were here, he would know what to say.”

Moritz laughed a little against his shirt, shocking him. “You do know what to say,” he whispered, his voice cracking, and he sniffled a little more but for the most part stopped weeping almost as quickly as he’d started. “You’re funny, Hanschen.”

“I should hope so.” He wiped a few tears off Moritz’s cheeks with his thumb and offered him a tissue for his nose. God, Hanschen shouldn’t have been thinking about how sweet he looked. _Comfort him, that’s it._ He was so fucked.

Their hands met again, and Hanschen tangled their fingers this time, staring intently at them instead of Moritz’s face.

“Hanschen,” the boy said softly, and he looked up to see that there were mere inches between them. He didn’t know which one of them moved forward, but all at once their lips met in the center, and Moritz was clumsy and pliant against him, his lips still wet with tears. Hanschen led with fervor at first, but he pulled back quickly, remembering who they both were. “Why’d you stop?”

He combed his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Oh Jesus. He’s gonna hate me for telling you this, but I can’t do this without you knowing, because I know, and shit, he’s gonna kill me either way.” Ironically, Moritz was watching him break down with an utterly placid, albeit confused expression. “Melchior is like, madly in love with you, so if you… You know, like him like that, you should go to him because he feels… the same way, and I don’t want to, you know-“

“I really don’t know,” Moritz admitted in a deadpan tone, and Hanschen laughed nervously. Moritz’s hands were like hot brands on his. “Maybe he told you that, but if he wants to be with me, he should try harder to keep me around.”

Hanschen was struck dumb, enough so that he just blurted out the first thing that came to him. “He just assumes you’ll never leave.”

Moritz considered this. “I probably won’t, but… it’ll never be like that for me again. He lost his chance.”

Ouch. Hanschen personally felt that wound for Melchior’s sake, but he enjoyed all too much the fact that he could lean back in and guide Moritz through another surprisingly deep kiss. Still, it was sweet and more romantic than he was used to. He couldn’t help but match Moritz’s personal admission with one of his own. Nuzzling the other boy’s jawline, he murmured to him. “I think about you all the time.” It was true. He’d been contemplating his and Moritz’s relationship even before he got put in the hospital and much of it was outside all the guilt he felt at not sticking up for Moritz in the past.

“Really?” Hanschen nodded against his skin, suddenly desperate for something, but he reigned himself in. Moritz smiled shyly. “I think about you too.”

They kissed again, Moritz letting himself be pushed into lying back on the window seat (with Nena taking her leave as Hanschen discreetly shooed her away). He ran his hands all up and down Moritz’s sides and helped him with two fingers guiding his chin. He was a quick learner, and soon Hanschen decided he didn’t need any more help, so he let that hand trail back down his chest instead. Moritz probably didn’t mean anything by it, but his fingers squeezing the backs of Hanschen’s thighs were simultaneously adorable and a huge tease. His face had become a little pink when Hanschen finally pulled away, essentially straddling him. (He was too tall for anything else, frankly, but Hanschen liked it, something he would never say aloud.)

“Here,” he said, grabbing Moritz’s hands where they were and sliding them up over his boxer-clad ass to the small of his back. “Hands here.” Moritz was now beet red and gaping at him as he smiled, blinking innocently. Perfect. He hid his face in Hanschen’s shirt collar. It was unbelievably adorable. “Embarrassed?”

“A little bit.”

“That’s okay.” Hanschen kissed the top of his head. He wasn’t always affectionate, but he knew when he needed to be, and this was nice. Moritz didn’t have any ulterior motives, didn’t want anything more from him yet. “You wanna go out? Maybe later tonight after you get some sleep, since it’s almost four in the morning.”

Moritz was starstruck. He nodded enthusiastically, and Hanschen gave him another kiss as he climbed out of Moritz’s lap.

“There’s a small carnival in town, I think. It doesn’t seem too crowded. We could go there. How does that sound?”

“Good, Hanschen. Really good. I’ll ask my mom.” He gave a crooked smile and gently grabbed Hanschen’s hand. He finally gave in, kissing Moritz’s knuckles as he collected himself.

“We can go lie down in my bed with Nena, so you can get some sleep.”

Moritz nodded and stood to follow him upstairs. “Did you name your cat after the band who did 99 Luftballons?” he asked with a laugh.

Hanschen scowled. “What about it?”

 

-

 

He was partially afraid that Moritz had only kissed him for comfort, or to prove that he didn’t have feelings for Melchior anymore, but it didn’t seem that way at all. In the next week, they went to the carnival and had a great time, Moritz covering Hanschen’s eyes on the Ferris wheel. (“If you tell anybody about this, I will smite you.” “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Hanschen. I’m afraid of swimming pools.” “Really?”) Moritz even stayed the whole night three days later when his parents were out and occasionally texted him for cat pictures and other necessities. It was nice. Moritz was nice.

Ernst had heard from Melchior that Moritz ran out of his house in the early morning hours almost at the same time the texts were coming into his phone that night, so it became apparent that he’d texted multiple people to see where Moritz could have been. Ernst had heard from Moritz the short story behind why he ran out, and that he’d gone to Hanschen’s for help.

So of course, Ernst expected to hear from him. “We talked, he cried, he met Nena, I comforted.”

“Why would he come to you of all people?” Ernst meant it as a merely curious question, but Hanschen couldn’t stop himself from being offended.

“Well obviously Melchior wouldn’t go looking for him at my house, and second of all, I wouldn’t give him away the moment Melchior showed up at my door,” he replied sharply.

Ernst sighed. “You know we wouldn’t do that. And I didn’t mean it like… I just mean you’re not close to him.”

“I know. It’s just, why do you guys keep reigning Moritz back in as if him and Melchior would ever work?” Hanschen picked at his nails absently with Ernst on speaker.

“Why do you think that?” Ernst asked, incredulous. “Where is this coming from?”

He nearly groaned, trying to figure the same thing out for himself. “All Melchior does is hurt his feelings and then feel bad about it. How could that possibly be good for anyone, much less someone like Moritz?”

Ernst was quiet on the other line as he considered this. “Maybe you’re right. When did you start thinking about this?”

Hanschen sighed heavily. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you about, or anyone, really.” Ernst made a surprised noise on the other line, but waited for his friend to continue. “When you brought me to the hospital, I would see him and go outside to cry. I would go home and cry. I just knew he was so alone, and I hated it. I hated that it took something so horrible for us to figure it out.”

“Oh, Hanschen-“ He started sympathetically.

“When he was here he told me that no one besides Melchior wanted him.” Hanschen was too upset to stop just yet. He wiped his eyes unceremoniously. “We’ve all been pushing Moritz toward him and not realizing that it’s also pushing him away from us.” That sounded a little too profound for his liking, but he was suddenly so angry at all of them for their obliviousness to what was happening.

“I… You’re right. We’ll back off, alright?”

Hanschen made a noise in the affirmative, then went silent. He couldn’t just not say anything about everything that had transpired between him and Moritz. He’d been coming clean way too much in the last few days. “Ernst, we kissed. Moritz and I kissed.”

“What? You- what? Did you tell him-“

“Yes. I told him about Melchior, I couldn’t do that without him knowing. He basically said he didn’t care. Don’t talk about this to anyone else, okay? I don’t know if he wants people to know.”

Ernst sputtered. “He- doesn’t care?” They had all genuinely thought that Moritz liked Melchior back; it was just a matter of compatibility and who would admit it first. It would shock anyone who knew them.

“Yeah, I know. He sort of implied that he used to like Melchior, but then… doesn’t now.”

“Really? Oh my God.” Hanschen could practically hear him shaking his head. “That poor bastard.”

He laughed, surprised at the profanity, before sobering up. Right. Don’t be happy about Melchior’s suffering. “Yeah, that’s… tough.” He cleared his throat loudly.

“But you’re- you and Moritz now, right? I know you think he’s cute and that he has a tight ass-“

“Ernst!”

“-but do you like him?”

Hanschen nodded before realizing that Ernst couldn’t see him. “Yeah, he’s probably soon going to realize that I’m an asshole too, but I’ll be enjoying his company up until then.”

He snorted. “Good.” A pause, then a loud exhale. “So how did that happen?”

“It just happened.”

“Nothing ever ‘just happens’ to you, Hanschen.”

He groaned again and began pacing the length of his room. “I was just sitting with him, trying to comfort him and failing, and he said I was funny and that was it. I don’t even know if I leaned in or if he leaned in or what. Then we just made out on the window seat for a little bit, and he fell asleep in my bed.” He neglected to mention that he was also in the bed, and that Moritz was holding his cat for the whole night.

“That is… so sweet.”

“I know! He’s a darling. I just never looked at him like that before because-“ He stopped himself in horror.

Ernst hummed. “Because?”

“Because Melchior is literally going to dismember me this Saturday. Shit. Holy shit. I’m going to die not even halfway through the summer.” Hanschen paced faster, running his fingers through his hair as he considered his options. The whole group was meeting for a picnic on Saturday, and they’d both have to face Melchior’s wrath.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can help you with that. Good luck though.”

“Hey, wait, Ernst-“ He heard the line go dead, and nearly threw his phone at the dresser.

 

-

 

**Moritz: I’m gonna tell Melchi today if you’re ok w/ it**

**He has to know before Saturday right?**

 

**me: sure, i was thinking the same thing**

 

Almost an hour later, Hanschen got a single thumbs up emoji from Moritz, which was as relieving as it was vague. He’d have to ask about it later, but he had been so tense for the hour before that he figured he deserved a nice cup of tea, or alternatively, the key to his father’s liquor cabinet.

Melchior had been in love with Moritz since Hanschen could remember any of them being capable of love. Melchior always had his intellectual nihilistic worldview and would never phrase it like that, but that’s what it always was. He had a funny way of showing it, but he just didn’t understand love. Hanschen figured that was why he hated the concept of it so much.

And he’d only hate it more now.

“Jesus, Rilow,” he muttered to himself, fiddling with a broken knob on his bedside table. “Don’t go feeling sorry for him.”

Melchior deserved that if he was going to keep making his friends feel shitty about themselves. They were only 18, it wasn’t as though he would never find anyone else. And for all he knew, Hanschen and Moritz wouldn’t last a week. If he fell more into his despairing philosophy, it was his own fault.

In Hanschen’s mind, pieces only fell into place if you gave them a push. Melchior had been too slow.

Moritz came by later to talk about it, charming Hanschen’s mother without even trying. She knew him, of course, but was again endeared to his shyness every rare time he visited.

“You’re going to be seeing a lot more of him, Mom,” Hanschen had told her the night they went to the carnival, and she raised her brows but smiled.

“Oh, good. Such a courteous boy. Needs good friends like you.” He had snorted. “What? Is it that he’s your boyfriend?”

“Sort of, but I’m not laughing at that. Just… a good friend like me. Huh.”

She looked up at him in warning. “I didn’t raise my son to be a bad boyfriend either.”

And that was that. She never left room for argument with that tone.

Now, she stood beside Moritz downstairs, who looked borderline terrified. “Hanschen! Take your friend upstairs, and when you both come down dinner will be ready.” Both boys thanked her, Hanschen kissing her cheek before they went up to his room.

“So how did he take it?” he asked almost as soon as the door shut behind them. Moritz didn’t seem very emotional one way or the other, his expression dubious.

He shrugged. “Kind of exactly how I expected. He was stunned and trying to act like he wasn’t upset, then he lectured me for letting you _seduce_ me or something. I zoned out a little bit, but he seemed hurt.” Moritz does look quite remorseful, like he feels a sliver of regret at either having to tell him at all or not listening to whatever Melchior was saying.

Hanschen pursed his lips. “Is that what that was? Seducing you?”

Moritz shook his head, his hair tumbling over his face before he got the chance to smooth it back as much as he could. “If by seducing, he means being kind and helpful until I remembered that I had been wanting to kiss you since like, January, then sure.” Hanschen was shocked by his bluntness, but he only continued blinking innocently as he waited for a response.

And he wouldn’t get one, at least not an intelligent one. “I- uh- well, I feel- um, right.” Oh how the tables had turned, Moritz, the stuttering mess, giving a nice and tidy explanation, while Hanschen was reduced to a single brain cell. “Why then?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, sitting on the bed. “The new semester started, and you were in that geography class with me. You were so witty in class discussions and looked much happier than usual.”

Hanschen remembered being an asshole in that class, but if Moritz thought it was wit, he wasn’t going to correct him. Additionally, he had come out to his parents during the winter break and had a good Christmas, which was why he came back so chipper. It was actually somewhat touching that Moritz noticed his mood and was affected by it. Only a little.

“You’re so observant. I can’t even remember at what point I started thinking of you like this. I mean, I thought you were adorable for an even longer time before that, and then I wanted to know you better, then… I don’t know.”

Moritz made a pleased noise. “That’s okay.”

Hanschen moved to straddle him on the mattress, kissing his temple. “Melchior will be fine,” he whispered.

“I know. I just hope he understands.”

He pulled back momentarily, Moritz resting his head against his chest. “Did you tell him you knew?”

“No.” He hugged Hanschen close and rubbed his face against the soft fabric of his shirt. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

Hanschen nodded and began to babble on about something else, the pair eventually moving back on the bed to a more comfortable position, shoulder-to-shoulder. Then they eventually went down for dinner.

_This should be interesting,_ Hanschen couldn’t help thinking.

 

-

 

Saturday was, for all intents and purposes, interesting.

When Hanschen and Moritz arrived together at the park, it was Ilse who noticed the strange duo first.

“Hanschen, when did you become a cab driver?” she asked with a laugh, tucking her skirt around her legs as she sat on the bench with Ernst, Melchior, and Wendla. Martha was working the grill, temporarily kept away from the action.

They looked at each other before Moritz started to answer. “Well, actually, we-“

“We made out last weekend, for your information, Ilse.” Hanschen couldn’t help but interject, and he knew Moritz didn’t mind his dramatics.

She chuckled again and then dropped the smile for a look of pure terror when she realized that they were completely serious. Melchior very transparently popped open a beer at that moment, almost prompting an eye-roll from Hanschen. “That’s- wow. Wow. Who would have thought?”

Wendla initially hazarded a look at Melchior but warmly congratulated them. Ernst just made finger guns at them and made a face, indicating that Moritz should go talk to Martha too. He did, leaving Hanschen to sit on the bench by Ernst- and directly across from Melchior. Yikes.

“So what have you guys been doing so far this summer?” he asked amiably. Ilse grinned at him almost in disbelief, and Wendla went into her sweet new summer job as a camp counselor. Melchior, as far as Hanschen could tell, only looked over his shoulder at where Moritz was and didn’t make eye contact for one second. He did pass Hanschen a beer, which was a surprising pleasantry, but they had very little interaction at first.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s so sweet!” Martha squealed behind him, and he could hear Moritz getting the absolute life squeezed out of him. It wasn’t too hard to believe that she was genuinely happy for them- even if she’d campaigned for Melchior’s chances in the past- since she was really one of Moritz’s best friends and just wanted his happiness. He smiled around the lip of his bottle at the thought. “He has the kindest heart,” she added, and Hanschen choked. Him? Kindhearted? Debatable amongst most of his classmates. The kindest? Not by a long shot. Moritz murmured a quiet agreement, and he already wanted to be drunk.

Melchior finally looked at him, and he couldn’t describe the expression on his face besides that it wasn’t pretty. Hanschen wasn’t going to try his luck, averting his gaze humbly to prolong the period of time before his ass got inevitably kicked.

Moritz and Martha joined them, and he felt a little less alone at the table. With beers and pork and fruit salad rounding the table, a wave of nostalgia hit Hanschen, and he was glad to have the opportunity to see all of them again, even given the awkward circumstances, and even though it had been less than a month since school went out of session.

He would never say that.

Looking over at Moritz and his characteristically muted smile, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride wash over him. It felt natural, like nothing had really changed, and he was glad for it.

While the others went to Ilse’s van to get out of the heat, Hanschen lingered around with Martha as she caught his eye. They sat down together on a nearby bench, shouting promises that they’d join the group soon.

“The kindest heart, eh? High praise from you,” he said as though it was a secret.

Martha raised her brows at him and grinned. “He comes to your place in the dead of night, and you make him tea? Hanschen, you have no clue how soft you are. And to think you called Ernst a sentimentalist- the comedy of it all.”

“I concede, I am a romantic.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me. Anything; I mean it. It’s been a while since we had a heart-to-heart, but I’m still your friend.” She gave him a onceover and hugged him gently, an embrace he returned.

“Thanks. Same goes for you though, alright? Text me whenever you want to hang out and shoot the shit. Or talk about our _feelings._ ”

Martha snorted at that and slung an arm across his shoulders, leading him to the van. As they got closer, they could hear a conversation inside.

He heard a loud sigh- Ernst, most likely- and then words from him. “I don’t think it’s really our job to-“

Wendla piped in, straightforward but polite as always. “It’s normal for friends to be worried, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but… you aren’t listening to him,” Ernst tried again.

Ilse’s voice lilted, almost sounding torn. “Well, I believe him and everything. We just want to know how it happened.” Hanschen understood then what the subject was, and if he didn’t before, he would have known as soon as Moritz spoke up.

“Do you know what he told me when I came over?” They stayed mostly quiet with some mumblings. “He said that I was cute, and I couldn’t believe him-“

Melchior laughed, but it was ugly, and both of them frowned at the noise. “That’s how he got you? With a compliment?” He then yelped, the noise accompanied by a dull thud as someone hit him or stomped on his foot.

“I couldn’t believe him, because he had his hand on one of my scars, and I couldn’t even imagine something so ugly- I just thought-“ His voice cracked slightly, and he stopped himself. The others were dead silent. “He said to me that they didn’t make me ugly, that they didn’t define me, and that the scars were just proof that I was still alive.” He paused again. “Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before. Everyone always says to wear long sleeves or- or put on scar cream or don’t worry about it. He didn’t. He didn’t.”

Melchior spoke again, soberly this time. “Moritz, I’m-“

“Don’t you get that? I know that he’s genuinely kind from one night out of many in which he’s helped people, and some of you still don’t know it after ten years. I like him. Leave me alone.”

Someone blew out a hard breath, Hanschen couldn’t tell who.

Martha looked at him with sympathy, but he wasn’t thinking about the group’s lack of faith in him, as much as he was in awe of Moritz’s confidence and belief in his goodness.

“Don’t worry about me,” Hanschen whispered to her, and she gave him a skeptical look, but nodded anyway. It didn’t really matter what they thought of him as long as they could still drink and laugh together, he figured. What mattered was that he had back-up from the most unlikely sources.

“Moritz, shit, I’m sorry. We should know better than to assume, right?” Ilse said inside the van, and it was obviously addressed to Wendla and Melchior. They both made noises of assent. Ernst just grumbled.

Hanschen decided to open the back door just then since it seemed to be far enough from the last mention of him that he could act like he heard nothing. All except Ernst and Moritz threw him guilty looks as he made his way in, Martha close behind. He was almost tempted to ask about their looks or the previously mentioned ‘assumptions’ made, but that was a bit cruel. He instead sat next to Moritz once again and rubbed his arm gently.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded with a smile that was soft around the edges, letting Hanschen kiss his cheek. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i appreciate everyone who reads, leaves kudos, and comments!!


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